


I Already Know He's a Keeper

by noelre



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, House Party, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noelre/pseuds/noelre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I’ve been sat with you for most of the night, ignoring everybody here, we wish they would disappear.</em>
</p><p>Conclusion: he really wasn’t needed here. Conclusion number two: he didn’t even want to be here. As if that hadn’t been obvious already. Out of the blue someone crashed to sit right next to him. Shintarou startled. There was a guy beside him, a guy he had never seen before, but who happened to have the most attractive pair of eyes he had ever seen when their gazes met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Already Know He's a Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> I've really missed writing. Suddenly, inspiration hit me and I just had to write PWP, my favorite. This really is PWP, nothing more, nothing less. Smut gives me life. And clearly makes me able to write again.
> 
> (Inspired by [Sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scHS8YaYoRA) by Ed Sheeran. Genius song.)

Shintarou curled his fingers over his knee and squeezed. The music blasting from the nearby speakers was obnoxiously loud. He had been here a mere hour, and everyone was already drunk and out of their minds. As much as he knew he had to socialize (or, as his mother liked to remind him day after day although he had moved away from home, _get the most out of university time_ ), this wasn’t his plan of attack. This was torture, and he hated every second of it.

 

The couch he sat on was empty apart from him and few dirty pillows. Shintarou sat right on the other side of it, plenty of space beside him, but no one bothered him. No one even looked at him twice. The red plastic cup he had been offered the moment he stepped in the stranger’s house was still untouched in his hand. It had taken him a mere sniff to realize that inside it was something far stronger liquid than he was comfortable with.

 

The way people danced, intoxicated, alcohol splashing to the floor and every other surface, was beyond awkward. Did no one regret the way they shook their hips to the awful music? Shintarou wrinkled his nose and clicked his tongue. If this was the ‘great university experience’, he definitely didn’t want to experience it. He squeezed the cup, fingers wanting to bury deep in the plastic, and wondered how much longer he should stay before it was acceptable to go. Although he had seen few familiar faces, mainly ones he had never talked to but had seen in lectures, no one had come to talk to him.

 

Conclusion: he really wasn’t needed here.

 

There was only alcohol in great variety, and snacks with higher calorie and sugar and salt intake than was healthy.

 

Conclusion number two: he didn’t even want to be here. As if that hadn’t been obvious already.

 

Yet somehow, he was glued to the only safe spot in the entire two floors of a house, the sofa that was far too uncomfortable. People grinded against one another, kissed in shady corners, hands down each other’s pants like there was no one else around. Shintarou’s face glowed hot. As much as he wanted to be brave and not… _give a fuck_ , it was difficult. There was nowhere to look, anyway, without seeing something that made his core shiver from disgust or unease.

 

“Okay, vodka or tequila?”

 

Out of the blue someone crashed to sit right next to him. Shintarou startled. There was a guy beside him, a guy he had never seen before, but who happened to have the most attractive pair of eyes he had ever seen when their gazes met. The stranger looked at him with a puzzled frown, hands holding necks of two bottles of clear alcohol. Despite the music, there was an awkward silence between them. Shintarou didn’t know how to fill it. Instead he looked at the dark hair falling over the guy’s forehead. His mane was messy, stylishly so, his lips curling upwards in a sweet yet confused smile.

 

“You’re not my friend,” the guy eventually concluded.

 

“I’m not,” came out of Shintarou’s mouth. “Great observation.”

 

“Ah, fucking fantastic…” The guy leaned his back properly to the couch and rested the bottles on his thighs. He stretched his neck and looked around, but his eyes eventually came back to Shintarou. “Have you seen this guy with… Oh, fuck it, I won’t find him anyway. You want a drink?”

 

Shintarou looked at the bottles that were intimidatingly large in the guy’s delicate fingers. He was quick to shake his head. “I don’t drink,” he said, defying the consensus in this house party. He had made the mistake to mention it once already and gotten weirded out looks. On the tip of his tongue already formed a set of defensive words, ready to be fired at this stranger.

 

“Oh,” the guy breathed, then shrugged. “That’s cool. More for me, I guess? Is that empty?” He nodded towards Shintarou’s cup.

 

“Um…” Shintarou glanced into the cup although he knew fully well what it looked like. “There’s something in it, but I don’t know what.”

 

“That’ll do. Thanks.” The guy felt so easy-going as he took the cup from Shintarou and emptied it. Once he had done so, he poured a mouthful from the tequila bottle to it and sipped it. A grin was quick to form on his face. “Who do you know around here?”

 

Shintarou had wished to escape the chit-chat, but it now seemed inevitable. He swallowed in his sigh and turned his attention back to the guy. “No one, really.”

 

“Ah, okay. Cool.” The guy bit his bottom lip and clearly sized Shintarou up with those piercing eyes. He really was oddly enticing (Shintarou felt himself fluster from the mere thought). The sleeves of his jumper were rolled up to his elbows, his ripped jeans tight and licking his curves. “I’m Kazunari, by the way,” he shouted over the music.

 

“…Shintarou.”

 

“Shintarou? Nice to meet you.” Kazunari gave a toothy grin. It was an easy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He waved a forefinger at Shintarou. “I really like your hair. You keep it green all the time?”

 

The spot between Shintarou’s shoulder blades remained tense. “It was part of a foolish bet that I lost.”

 

“’Kay, I see. Looks really nice, though.”

 

Shintarou’s earlobes burned.

 

Kazunari remained quiet a single second, the exact amount it took him to finish his drink. “What department are you in?”

 

“Medical.”

 

“What?”

 

Shintarou cleared his throat and was forced to move closer. “Medical,” he repeated, a bit louder this time.

 

Kazunari’s face brightened. He pointed himself. “Humanist, right here.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” Shintarou averted his eyes again. Small-talk had never been his thing; it was simply awkward, and he didn’t know what to say. Part of him was almost glad that at least _someone_ was talking to him, because he didn’t know how much longer he could have simply sat there alone while literally everyone else around him was busy having fun. He cleared his throat. Carefully he glanced towards Kazunari, who poured a bit more tequila in the cup, drank it, and filled the red plastic with vodka this time.

 

Kazunari caught Shintarou’s gaze and gave out a guilty look. “I don’t really drink to the point of getting drunk,” he said. “It’s just… I kind of snatched these from the kitchen, they really don’t even taste that good. My friend, who’s out there somewhere, probably making out with some chick,” he gave a grandiloquent wave towards the distance, “he wanted to drink, but of course he’s just gone. Glad I found you, though.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kazunari tilted his head ever so slightly. “Do you come to these parties often?”

 

Shintarou shook his head.

 

“’Cause I’ve never seen you before, and I’d remember seeing you, you’re so tall, and that green hair, it’s real difficult to miss,” Kazunari rambled. His grin was warm and inviting. He inched closer to Shintarou. The sides of their thighs nearly touched. “But that explains it if you don’t come to these things. I mean, I’m not even sure why I’m here, I don’t like to get drunk, dancing is a bit, _meh_ , and, you know.”

 

“I’m not sure if I… _know_.”

 

Kazunari was a mouthful, wasn’t he? It was almost exhausting to listen to him, much less to keep answering the overflowing questions. As much as Shintarou wanted to simply mind his own business, tell Kazunari goodbye and continue on with his life, he couldn’t really tear his gaze away from the guy anymore. There was something… fascinating with Kazunari. The way he waved and nodded and snorted out a laughter whenever someone familiar walked past him was strangely… adorable? Shintarou shuddered. His heart beat a little louder, the blood in his veins thrummed a little faster. Although he had never been interested in girls, not a single boy had ever caught his fancy this quickly, either.

 

Until now, it seemed like.

 

“Anyway.” Kazunari turned back to Shintarou, attention fully on him, the bottle of vodka now on the floor and the tequila going the same way. “I don’t like dancing, but do you still wanna do that with me?”

 

Shintarou shook his head so fast it brought a small ache inside. “I don’t dance,” he said and felt tension rise in his belly.

 

“Ah, okay. Cool.” Kazunari crossed his leg over the other and puckered his lips. “You know, it’s _reeeally_ difficult to flirt with you when you don’t give much back.”

 

Shintarou’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

 

“Huh?” Kazunari startled. “Shit, I said that out loud just now, didn’t I? Okay, I’ve definitely had one sip too much of alcohol… Uh, yeah. I’m flirting with you, in case you didn’t notice.”

 

“I most certainly didn’t.”

 

“Really?” Kazunari sounded surprised. “Of course I’m flirting, look at you.”

 

Shintarou frowned and narrowed his eyes.

 

Kazunari waved a hand at him. “Oh, come on, you’re a total hunk, gorgeous. Plus, you made my radar beep—“

 

“What… radar?”

 

“The… you know. You look like… me? Interested in guys?” Kazunari cocked a brow. “But if that’s not your thing, I’m totally willing to get up and leave you alone.”

 

Shintarou moistened his bottom lip. “You’re not entirely wrong.”

 

Kazunari’s face brightened. “Thank god! I suppose now I can say that your eyes are super gorgeous, just, _wow_.”

 

It became awfully hot in the cramped living room all of a sudden.

 

“Plus you’re so cute when you blush.”

 

“I don’t… blush,” Shintarou insisted, although he could feel his cheeks glow. It was definitely bad, and a side of himself that he didn’t want to show to someone who he had literally just met. He tried to be discreet when he brushed his knuckles against his cheeks, as if miraculously that would take the fluster away. It didn’t.

 

Kazunari’s grin started to reach both of his ears. There was a chuckle playing with Kazunari’s lips, so awfully… alluring, really. Shintarou couldn’t help but stare, and even when he realized that he was intensely staring, he couldn’t turn away. It was bad, as if there was a bright halo around whole of Kazunari’s being, beaming, capturing Shintarou, making him look longer than he wanted. The way Kazunari’s eyes gleamed in the shady lights made Shintarou’s heart skip a beat and then drop to the pits of his stomach.

 

Kazunari moved closer, as if they had known each other for ages and were at the comfort level of bodies touching one another. To Shintarou’s surprise, he didn’t necessarily dislike it. Kazunari’s foot brushed against his, shin pressing against shin. They were so close Shintarou could practically feel the warm, tequila-filled breath caressing his cheeks.

 

“What year are you in?” Kazunari asked. Up close his gaze didn’t seem drunken at all. Maybe he wasn’t, after all.

 

Shintarou swallowed hard. His fingers pulled into loose fists. His pulse thudded near his jawline. “Second,” he mustered out.

 

“Hey, me too.” Kazunari looked wicked. “You know what we should do? Grab lunch sometime, get to know each other. I’ve got a feeling that you might like me.”

 

“And what gives you that feeling?”

 

“The way you lookin’ at me.” Kazunari bit his lower lip to clearly stop himself from smirking, but the effort was futile. He looked like a child in a candy shop. “You haven’t looked elsewhere properly since I sat here.”

 

Shintarou blinked. Kazunari was… straightforward. It took him a moment to confirm that it was the word he was looking for. His mind was nothing but a jumble, a big puddle of goo when he looked into Kazunari’s eyes. He felt intoxicated, as if he had been drinking the equal amount of clear alcohol as everyone else around him. Shintarou felt a little dizzy. His mouth remained dry, his heart having severe palpitations. He was about to diagnose himself with at least a dozen different illnesses.

 

The diagnosis was well underway, when Kazunari suddenly leaned in and lined his mouth with Shintarou’s. Shintarou’s mind drew immediately blank. What had he been thinking so intensely a second ago? He couldn’t remember. His eyes widened into the kiss, and he stared at Kazunari’s closed eyelids. He tensed from the core. The kiss was wet, tangy, tasted of alcohol, but it was _pleasant._ It was… heart-throbbing. Shintarou sighed softly and relaxed. He closed his eyes and leaned into Kazunari, into the kiss, tilted his head and kissed him back. It was clumsy, it was against his nature and everything he believed in, but it felt so damn good.

 

He really couldn’t resist. His nose pressed tight against Kazunari’s, so much that it hurt, but he couldn’t stop. Although there were too many people around him, seeing him kissing another male, it didn’t matter to Shintarou at the moment. He ignored the rest of the world and _enjoyed_. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed something so intensely, without a second thought. Against his mouth Kazunari moaned. Kazunari worked his fingers through Shintarou’s nape, amongst his hair and tugged ever so slightly. The kiss deepened, turned wetter. Tongues twisted and collided, hungry, desperate.

 

When Shintarou finally pulled back for breath, he stared into Kazunari’s bewildered eyes. He swallowed a thick lump down his throat and back into his chest. He couldn’t feel his heart, yet his pulse was going insane on his wrists, on his neck, throbbing all over his skin. The eyes looking back at him turned intense, and they stared straight into his soul. For a sweet, lingering moment Shintarou forgot to breathe.

 

“Do you wanna come upstairs with me?” Kazunari asked, breathless, fingers brushing against Shintarou’s. “There might be a bedroom empty, we can lock the door, I just wanna have fun with you. Your lips feel really nice.”

 

“Thank… you.” Shintarou wanted to slap himself. _Thank you?_ What an idiot he was. He hesitated a moment. Then, the words simply escaped his mouth before he could stop them. “Let’s go.”

 

Kazunari’s eyes widened around the corners, but he was quick to jump up on his feet. He grabbed Shintarou’s hand, so effortlessly, like they were meant to be joined, and pulled Shintarou up as well. The pace Kazunari took was maddening, and Shintarou stumbled behind the shorter guy. His palm felt sweaty, and he briefly wondered if Kazunari found it disgusting or off-putting. It didn’t seem to be the case when Kazunari tugged him towards the stairs and up them. They passed several couples tangled to each other, mid-kiss. Shintarou realized that they must have looked the same a moment ago on the sofa, and flushed.

 

His legs like jelly, tripping over constantly in the narrow space in the midst of intense kisses and his hand tightly in Kazunari’s, Shintarou didn’t dare to breathe until they were in an empty room. Kazunari let go and locked the door behind them. The music was obtuse, and Shintarou heard his pulse bright and clear in his ears, blood gushing like it had never before. Tension found its way back into his shoulders, but he didn’t have the chance to think twice about anything when Kazunari already made his move and attacked.

 

They kissed, awkwardly so, because only now did their height difference became apparent. Shintarou was clearly a head taller, even more, and Kazunari tiptoed, leaned against him. Nearly losing his balance, Shintarou stumbled backwards, lips still locked in Kazunari’s, and managed to sit down on the edge of the bed. Kazunari smelled good, if you ignored the whiff of tequila and vodka, and Shintarou felt drunk. He smacked his lips when Kazunari pulled back. His heart fluttered.

 

With ease Kazunari took a hold of Shintarou’s knees and parted them, set down on his own knees on the floor between Shintarou’s thighs. Shintarou licked his lips, the taste of Kazunari lingering so painfully sweet on his mouth. He held his breath, and hung his head down when Kazunari worked a palm over his crotch. The muscles on his thighs tensed, tightened. With a grin Kazunari worked the zipper of Shintarou’s jeans down, fingers fast and expert, and shoved the band of the underwear down just enough to reveal a neat bush of pubic hair. Shintarou’s cock was quick to meet Kazunari’s gaze.

 

Shintarou wanted to cover his face in his palm, but instead he gripped the edge of the bed with both of his hands. He didn’t even know this guy, and here he was, pants suddenly down his ankles and Kazunari looking at him hungrily, like a beast. Shintarou’s cock twitched, and his entire body shuddered the moment Kazunari touched him. Kazunari’s fingertips were soft, almost delicate, nearly tickling, when they ran down the length of the cock. Shintarou squeezed his eyes shut and felt his abdomen tighten. He wasn’t an expert in sex—he had _had_ sex, sure, but only a couple of times—, and it was almost embarrassing how easily aroused he became.

 

The first stroke was the most pleasurable one. Shintarou dipped his head back. A moan trickled out of his mouth, unintentionally, barely there. Kazunari’s fingers tightened the grip from Shintarou’s girth. Kazunari pumped, his thumb every now and then rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves on the head. Shintarou pressed the soles of his feet harder to the floor and convulsed. His body spasmed, his chest falling forward, and somehow he managed to bring his hand in Kazunari’s hair. Slowly Shintarou dared to open his eyes and looked at Kazunari’s hand moving so effortlessly on his cock that was rosy and throbbed with want. Kazunari looked up at him and grinned.

 

“Can I suck you?”

 

The words were enough to make Shintarou stifle another moan. He nodded hastily.

 

Kazunari’s smirk was quickly gone when he wrapped his hot, moist mouth around Shintarou’s cockhead. Shintarou’s brows knitted together in concentration, his fingers gripping the dark curls tight. He yanked ever so slightly, then pulled Kazunari’s head closer to his crotch. Kazunari’s breath was sweltering on his dick, and as he sucked, his cheeks hollowed. Shintarou bit his bottom lip hard to stop himself from making so many embarrassing noises, but little grunts and huffs still got out. A steady stream of moans now trickled from Kazunari, too, and they grew even louder when he began to paw at his own apparent erection through his jeans.

 

Shintarou felt light-headed. He couldn’t think of anything other than Kazunari, his mouth, his fingers working and grasping and groping. His cock was buried deep down Kazunari’s mouth, curving towards his throat, but not once did Kazunari gag as he bobbed his head up and down rhythmically. Another hand sneaked on Shintarou’s waist and stroked, clawed, fingertips buried suddenly in his flesh. Shintarou moaned, loud enough to muffle the echo of the music outside the room. His cheeks were so hot, and he guessed they were as red as Kazunari’s. There was a small wrinkle in the middle of Kazunari’s forehead, brows reaching together in concentration.

 

When Kazunari looked up in mid-suck and batted his eyelashes, Shintarou was sold.

 

His cock strained hard. Blood and adrenaline flowed to all the right places. His balls tightened, his toes curled in his sweaty shoes. He pushed his bottom down on the bed, yet his upper body moved forward, slightly over Kazunari, until he was a ball of mess and deep-rooted arousal. He wanted to come, _now_ , so badly. His abdomen felt tight, burning, he wanted the release, he _needed_ it.

 

Maybe Kazunari read his mind, or simply saw the signs in time, but he moved his mouth away with a wet pop and simpered up at Shintarou. Shintarou grumbled, low, below his breath. The head of his cock glistened with saliva and frustration, deep red nearing a shade of purple. As much as he wanted to say something, anything, he choked on his words when Kazunari got up on his feet and shoved his own jeans down. Kazunari’s cock strained hard against his belly, a pearl of pre-cum trickling down the shaft. Kazunari licked his lips and climbed on Shintarou’s lap without a question asked.

 

“You probably don’t have lube,” he murmured in Shintarou’s ear.

 

Shintarou shuddered. “N-No…”

 

“Fuck…” Kazunari cursed softly. He parted his thighs even more and sat more comfortably in Shintarou’s lap. “We gotta do that some other time, yeah? Gimme your hand.”

 

With a bit of hesitation Shintarou did exactly that. Kazunari coached it gently towards their cocks, and with a bit of stretching Shintarou wrapped his fingers around both of their members with ease. So did Kazunari, his fingers not quite as long and awfully bony as Shintarou’s, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all. Together they set on a messy tempo of clumsy hands, their dicks twitching against one another. Kazunari pushed his hips closer and happened to press against a vein on the underside of Shintarou’s cock that he so often liked to stroke when he was in the privacy of his own room.

 

He knew how to stroke a penis, but it was surprisingly difficult to do it to someone. Shintarou concentrated hard and slid his hand up and down Kazunari’s cock, brought a finger over the moist head every now and then. As much as he wanted to overthink it, like he normally did, he didn’t get to chance to when Kazunari worked his hand on him so skillfully. Shintarou moaned. The sound was quickly muffled by Kazunari’s lips when Kazunari pulled Shintarou into a kiss. This time the kiss tasted of himself, Shintarou realized, and nearly decided to move away but didn’t. He endured, and soon the taste wasn’t bothering anymore. He dipped his head and deepened the kiss, brushed the tip of his tongue on Kazunari’s lower lip and gained access to his mouth. Kazunari’s tongue was burning and wet and perfect.

 

The amount of saliva they exchanged resulted in loud, sloppy noises that echoed in the room. Shintarou breathed heavily through his nose before indulging in another kissing session. He worked his hand now exclusively on Kazunari’s cock, stroked, thumbed, squeezed lightly, kept milking it. Kazunari shuddered like the most gorgeous being on his lap, his smaller body fitting perfectly in Shintarou’s arms. Shintarou ghosted his fingers over Kazunari’s entire length and drew out the loudest, most delicious moan he had ever heard. Kazunari’s breath quickened, and so did Shintarou’s. Instead of kissing, Kazunari buried his face into Shintarou’s neck and rolled his hips forward, over and over and _over_ , creating friction, creating perfection.

 

Shintarou couldn’t stop himself, not when Kazunari stroked him hard and fast and concentrated most of the touches to the head. He made a noise in the back of his throat, a cut-off moan, and came messily. The thick ropes of white spread across Kazunari’s fingers. Somehow, it was a sight that Shintarou couldn’t look away from. He panted, his cock twitching and throbbing, the last droplets of cum trickling down his length. He wanted to lay down, close his eyes, relax and ride the aftermath, but determination made him sit upright and keep working on Kazunari’s rock-hard erection.

 

It took few silly seconds for Kazunari to reach his orgasm. When he did, he turned into a curled ball of heavy breaths and shuddering limbs, gripping tight onto Shintarou’s shirt, searching for some odd support.

 

They sat without moving, silence between them. The music outside was as obnoxious as ever. Kazunari’s breath tickled the side of Shintarou’s neck. The body over his turned heavy, the breaths slower, yet his own heartbeat was even livelier than before. Shintarou squeezed his eyes shut and only now thought what he had just done. Was this the famous one-night stand? It wasn’t as bad as he had feared it would be. In fact, this had been perfect. The weight of Kazunari’s cock had felt good in his palm. Good fit. His cheeks glowed, and so did the rest of his body.

 

It took Shintarou forever to pull himself back together. It seemed to be the same amount of time for Kazunari to do exactly the same. Kazunari moved his head back, just enough to look into Shintarou’s eyes. He didn’t make a move to get up from Shintarou’s lap or cover his bottom half. Instead, he wore a beamish smile.

 

“Where do you live?” he asked.

 

Shintarou moistened his dried lips. Somehow, it didn’t feel too awkward to sit here with his jeans and boxers down his ankles, a stranger in his lap. His heart skipped a treacherous beat. “In the suburb,” he answered. His voice was raspy.

 

“I’m few blocks from here.” Kazunari’s smirk only widened. “Can I take you home with me? We can continue. I can make breakfast for you in the morning.”

 

Ridiculously enough, Shintarou didn’t hesitate this time. “Okay.”

 

It took them five minutes more to emerge from the bedroom, simply because they found that tangling their limbs together and pressing mouths hard against one another was much more fun than pulling on jeans and moving.


End file.
